


Drowning in a Bottle

by daftalchemist



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, Eldritch Abomination Cecil, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Hemipenes, Intoxication, M/M, Tentacles, monster Kevin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:17:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daftalchemist/pseuds/daftalchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos is out of town, Kevin is running the show, and Cecil does the only thing he can think of to cope: drink to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning in a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> beta thanks to f1rstperson

Drink to forget. Drink to forget. Say _absolutely nothing_ , and drink to forget. Of course, there was no stipulation about drinking on the job; Cecil had come up with that one on his own. No one seemed to have an issue with it though, and he had a lot of forgetting he needed to do. _Immediately_. There was a horrible presence in his life, more specifically in his sound booth. It was dark, as evil as they came, devouring all of Cecil’s happiness the moment it burst into the room, and still looking for more. It was foul, so foul, swallowing the light with its very presence, filling the room with a living shadow that wanted nothing more to destroy Cecil’s life. And it’s name was “Kevin”.

He’d been there for days, as though he never went home, or at least never slept. He was there first thing in the morning and stayed late into the night, smiling gleefully and chattering on about productivity and efficiency and ugh. _Ugh_. Cecil rued the day the latest Strex execu-clone had told him he’d have a “co-host” due to his “unwarranted” and “unnecessarily undermining” behavior. Carlos had been no help, telling him something like he had to act like an adult, learn to handle difficult situations, not get dragged off for re-education or some other equally ridiculous _nonsense_.

So Cecil _did_ act like an adult, and he did what any responsible adult would do. He took his state-issued driver’s license to the nearest liquor store, and bought anything with a proof over 100. Carlos had rolled his eyes and said that wasn’t what he’d meant, but Cecil wasn’t a mind reader, no matter what those rumors said about him, and if Carlos hadn’t wanted Cecil to get blind drunk during his show-- _his_ show--then he should have explicitly said so. It didn’t matter anyway, because Carlos wasn’t in town. Off to handle research grants or family or something else that sounded mundane and not nearly as important as being there for his boyfriend in such a severe time of crisis, but _whatever_. Drink to forget. Drink to forget.

And drink Cecil did, a _lot_. At home, at the station, anywhere he felt the need to forget. No one seemed to notice, which was wonderful, or perhaps terrible because it meant that no one seemed to care about the hurt he was dealing with. Kevin had all but taken over his show, never able to stop flapping his gums for more than a couple seconds at a time, that awkward pause where he’d look over at Cecil expectantly, that horrible smile never faltering. Cecil, of course, never knew what he’d been talking about, because he tended to drone on and on and _on_ about unimportant things so often that he’d zone out or doze off without realizing it, until a swift kick to his shin would bring him back to attention. He’d mutter some sort of generic agreement like “absolutely” or “how wonderful”, and that wide, shark-toothed grin would somehow become impossibly wider, and Kevin would be back to reading the news-- _Cecil’s_ news--before Cecil even had a moment to figure out what he’d just agreed with. He hoped he wasn’t inadvertently giving the citizens of Night Vale bad advice, but he worried that was exactly what he was doing. Ugh. Drink to forget.

Days of it, in fact. Days of drinking, of being told not to drink by a boyfriend who could only show concern in texts because Cecil’s phone just bled passive-aggressively when he tried to call. Days of some Dollar General knock-off running his show. There was blood on his desk now! _Blood_! On his console too! “Redecorating” was what Kevin had called it, and Cecil had punched him in the jaw the very moment he’d suggested redecorating the booze stash. The lunatic had lost a few teeth, but Cecil had watched them grow back as quickly as they’d come loose, righting that smile that was still so wrong, and Kevin had conceded that corner of the booth to his “partner”. _Partner_! As though they were _equals_! As though Kevin wasn’t just some insidious parasite worming his way into everything Cecil held dear, corrupting it and making it as black as his eyes. But it was only for a little while, right? Even if Kevin didn’t leave, Carlos would come back. He’d care that Cecil was being shoved out of his job, out of his town, his life. Carlos would kiss him and hold him and treat him wonderfully, and everything would be fine because that would be everything that mattered, and Kevin wouldn’t mean anything anymore.

Except that Carlos had to extend his visit because his job requested it, and there was nothing he could do to get out of it, not if he wanted to keep his job. Cecil had already run out of the harder stuff by the time he received the text, but he still had his good friend Jack Daniels there to comfort him in his time of need, and he did need it. Kevin was particularly cheerful that day, or maybe slightly less cheerful. It was nearly impossible to tell, because while his tone might waver here or there, that smile remained almost entirely unchanged, and Cecil’s brain was spinning in its skull a bit too much to figure out which was the truer expression of Kevin’s mood. Not that he cared, not really. It was just that, if there really was something that could take Kevin’s overwhelmingly sunny disposition down a notch, then it would have to mean certain doom for everyone else. It was the kind of thing Cecil should worry about, if worrying wasn’t for chumps who didn’t have half a bottle of Tennessee Honey to soothe their minds. He just hoped he could pace himself well enough to make that half bottle last through to the end of the show.

A hand gripping his shoulder snapped him to attention. He felt incredibly groggy, his mind swimming lazily in a sea of booze, and he assumed he’d fallen asleep at some point, wondering vaguely if he’d snored loud enough for the microphones to pick up. He hoped not. He might not have been enjoying his show lately, but he still didn’t want to be the one ruining it. The anxiety was immediately dashed from his mind, though, as he was faced with the most horrifying thing he’d ever seen. It was Kevin, of course, but worse. So much worse. It was Kevin _without_ a smile. His brows were furrowed, the black pits he called eyes seemed full of concern, and his hand was still firmly squeezing Cecil’s shoulder.

“Th’ fuck off me!” Cecil slurred as he wrenched himself away from Kevin’s vice-like grip, watching his dark eyes widen.

“That’s some language you’re using, friend,” he said, his voice horribly cheery even though he wasn’t wearing his usual terrifying smile. The combined effect sent a shiver down Cecil’s spine. “I just wanted to do you the favor of waking you up. The show’s over.”

The pressure behind Cecil’s eyes was incredible, and he pressed his palms against them with an agonized groan. He’d be regretting this tomorrow, if he didn’t continue drinking tomorrow. He might not if the dizziness that was making the room spin hadn’t subsided by then, at least a little. It was probably better to give himself a break from it anyway. He was certain his wallet would appreciate it, at the very least.

“How long,” he grunted, sounding much more like a statement than a question. His mouth felt awful, his tongue dry and thick against his teeth, like he’d been drinking a bottle of sand rather than a bottle of whiskey.

“We’ve been off the air for a few hours now,” Kevin answered, that awful grin beginning to spread across his cheeks again before he schooled it back into a concerned frown. Had his lips always been bloody? Was that something Cecil just hadn’t noticed until now? “I’m glad you’ve decided to stay and… work late, actually. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Cecil groaned dramatically, rubbing his temples and rolling his eyes as far as he could without inducing a second, more vicious headache than the one he was currently experiencing. It should have been obvious to anyone how much displeasure the sentence filled him with, but Kevin wasn’t just anyone, was he? No, not Kevin. He simply leaned forward, looking every bit the concerned, bloodied antagonist who had stolen parts of Cecil’s life that he would never get back. He placed a hand on Cecil’s knee, ignoring how Cecil recoiled in disgust, and sighed very sorrowfully. It was an impressive bit of acting, if it was acting, but Cecil had a feeling it wasn’t, which only made his skin crawl even more.

“Cecil,” he said, and it was like vinegar being poured into his ears, “I think you may have a drinking problem.”

The silent pause that followed barely lasted for ten seconds before Cecil burst into laughter, shoving Kevin away with such force that he nearly upset himself and ended up on the floor. It was a joke; it had to be. This human slime, if he even _was_ actually human, didn’t actually care about him. This was about productivity or profit margins or… something that sounded corporate and professional. Synergy. Buzzwords. That sort of thing.

“Drinking isn’t a _problem_ ,” he spat, slumping heavily into his chair. “It’s a _solution_.”

“Yes, well,” Kevin frowned, “I’m sure you think that’s very clever, but I feel I’ve been patient on this matter long enough, and it’s time to address it.”

“Patient,” scoffed Cecil. “Really.”

“Incredibly, as it so happens,” Kevin replied, his voice already picking up into its usual cheery tone. It was unnerving how he seemed to be incapable of keeping it at an even emotional level, like everything in the world magically reverted to sunshine and blood sacrifices if he lost focus for half a second. “I thought that I would let you transition on your own, give you time to adjust to the new show format. I’ve certainly never seen anyone drink so much while at work; it’s terribly unproductive, you know. But I thought, hey, if this is how he gets through the day, then who am I to force him to change, right? He’ll figure it out, he’ll slip into a new groove that works for him, and things will be great.”

Cecil clenched his jaw painfully, unable to believe the complete nonsense being spouted at him, _about_ him.

“But it really has been a while since we’ve started co-hosting,” Kevin continued, growing more cheery by the second, “and I guess I just thought you’d be used to this by now. We need to learn to work together, after all. This is our show now, and I’d like it if you started being an active part of the team.”

“Th-this is _my_ show!” Cecil bellowed as he vaulted himself forward, grasping Kevin’s tie in a white-knuckle grip. “You’re just an intruder who wormed your way in!”

Kevin’s brows knit together as he wrapped his fingers around Cecil’s. “I think you may be confused, friend. This is the _new_ format. The station isn’t using the old one anymore. This is _our_ show now.”

The room spun, but not from the shock of the news, or the whiskey sloshing around in Cecil’s skull. It was from a sudden lack of air, the kind that could only mean Kevin’s hands were wrapped around his neck, and they were, but what Cecil neglected to immediately notice was that he’d clenched Kevin’s throat in a vice-like grip, and was snarling directly in that horrific face, awkwardly perched on his lap.

“ _You_!” he bellowed, firmly squeezing Kevin’s throat despite how that made the smiling man squeeze his own, or how it caused more blood to bubble up out of his mouth and over his lips. “ _You_ did this! You slithered in and took it all away from me, you… you _snake_!”

“Not quite,” Kevin chuckled softly, “but very close.”

Cecil’s breath caught in his throat as the black pits Kevin had for eyes constricted into thin, vertical slits, the rest filling in with bright orange, lined with hints of red. Oddly enough, this change made the shark-toothed grin seem less unnatural than it had, though the blood caking his lips and chin was still off-putting. “Monster,” Cecil hissed, and Kevin laughed in response.

“I suppose you would know,” he purred, squeezing Cecil’s neck a little tighter. The familiarity in his tone was disgusting, making Cecil’s stomach roil. It was as though he was _enjoying_ choking each other, his eyes heavy-lidded and twinkling, and that smile growing wider by the minute.

“I must say,” he continued as dark brown spines began bursting from his shoulders and back, tearing through his buttondown shirt, “this is the finest hug I’ve ever received. I had no idea you cared for me so much.”

Cecil hissed, and his eyes became the same pools of black Kevin’s used to be, only his violet pupils keeping them distinctly different. He attempted to pull back, to scramble out of Kevin’s reach and vault himself across the room, but Kevin’s grip had him firmly rooted in place by the neck, and he was pulling Cecil closer, forcing him to straddle Kevin’s lap just to keep from falling off and choking himself. A hug. A _hug_? He supposed the lunatics that came out of Desert Bluffs _would_ think choking someone to death was a show of affection, and immediately released the grip he had on the rapidly shifting creature. Kevin’s grip didn’t relax, and to make matters worse, Cecil couldn’t tell him to stop “hugging” him as a thumb pressed against his throat cut off more and more of his breathing.

“It’s been so lonely living in Night Vale these past few weeks,” Kevin said, droning on about his life as though Cecil cared. As though _anyone_ cared. “The people here are incredibly rude and unfriendly. I don’t know how any of you stand each other. Everything is just vitriol and poorly planned terrorist attacks with this town, isn’t it?”

“They cut school funding for that!”

“Did they?” Kevin asked, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. Or at least they _had_ been his eyebrows. At this point they were more like protruding scaled ridges, blending seamlessly with the sandy brown scales popping up along the edges of his face, the backs of his hands and neck. “That just seems irresponsible. Who knows when that will come in handy?”

“Currently,” Cecil growled, his teeth now as sharp as Kevin’s as his skin turned a dark charcoal gray, dotted with violet freckles.

“But _you_ ,” Kevin purred, releasing one hand from Cecil’s neck to firmly grasp his jaw, pulling his face uncomfortably close to that blood-stained smile. “You’re the first person to be kind to me in this god-forsaken town, Cecil.”

Cecil’s stomach churned, not just from the alcohol roiling in his gut, but from having Kevin so close that he could feel breath against his skin. It was incredible how strong his grip was, and there seemed to be nothing Cecil could do to shake loose. There was no room to manifest, not trapped in his clothes as he was; no openings to thrust a tentacle out of and crack against Kevin’s skull, no space to alter the joints on his powerful legs so he could dash out of there, and the claws he already had digging into Kevin’s arms didn’t even seem to phase him. He shook his head weakly, fear setting in. He was in a bad spot, and he’d dulled his wits too much to figure out a way to get out of it. That was torment enough, but it didn’t end there. No, it got so much worse.

It got worse because there was something thick and stiff steadily bulging upwards in Kevin’s slacks, and while Cecil had no idea what he could be concealing in there, and quite frankly did not want to find out, it felt... _good_ pressed against his groin. It felt good nestled so close against his tendrils, because though his wits were dulled from the alcohol, his nerves were on fire, his blood racing through his veins. He could feel even the slightest twitch that Kevin made against him, and it felt _good_.

“I _hate_ you,” Cecil spat, snarling and snapping his teeth inches from Kevin’s face, but Kevin only chuckled and pulled him closer.

“Actions speak louder than words,” he cooed, stroking Cecil’s cheek. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your rebellious neighbors that you’ve come to enjoy the Bluffs presence in your town. Not until it’s deemed strategically important, at least.”

Half a dozen pitch black eyes stared in shock at Kevin, at the audacity of the statement, and Cecil roared in frustration. “I would never, _ever_ enjoy-”

The air was punched from his chest as a slender, forked tongue darted from between Kevin’s teeth and licked a wet stripe up Cecil’s cheek, stilling him instantly, though not from shock. Cecil’s muscles simply refused to obey his brain’s commands, his movements feeling sluggish, as though there were a gap in the connection between his mind and body, causing it to take an uncomfortably long time to get his breathing back under control.

“Wh-what did… did you _do_?” he gasped, his skin prickling unpleasantly, as though he were attempting to manifest fully but just couldn’t find the will to do it. Kevin shushed him softly, as though that would calm him _at all_.

“Just some slight paralysis,” he cooed, nuzzling Cecil’s jaw. His skin, or scales by this point, felt smooth and cool , soothing the uncomfortable feeling crawling just beneath Cecil’s skin, and he whimpered pitifully at the relief he felt. “Neurotoxins. Not deadly, of course, but effective nonetheless.”

“ _Why_?” Cecil demanded, his lips wrapping clumsily around the word. His limbs felt heavy and thick, moving sluggishly as he tried to push himself away, but there was no strength in him. Just a lapse between his panic and his actions, some piece of time where his motives were called into question by his own body and dismissed as overly dramatic. Kevin’s fingertips against his cheek made him hiss, a quick release of air and nothing more, because there was nothing more to think about it. He’d never felt so soft a touch, never had his skin burn even as it prickled with cold. It was a confusing mess of sensations that made his head spin even worse--the room, the chair, the _monster_ pressed against him coming in and out of focus--but he couldn’t truthfully say he found it unpleasant.

“There is no ‘why’ to it,” Kevin purred, stroking Cecil’s cheek so gently, lulling him into such a deep relaxation that he almost didn’t notice the loud sound of fabric tearing, and two hands gently grasping Cecil’s hips, even as one continued to squeeze his neck and another tilted his chin upwards. “It just is; has always been that way. It’s not for you, or for me, or for anyone. It’s for everyone.” Kevin’s laugh was light and terrible. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Doesn’t it make you feel alive and dead at the same time?”

Cecil shook his head weakly before burying his face against Kevin’s shoulder, ignoring the smaller spines that dug into his cheeks. He could hardly feel them anyway, and the amount that he could feel them was wonderful and interesting and new and different. He could deny Kevin the satisfaction of knowing the toxins in his saliva made him feel good, but he couldn’t deny it to himself. It was as though he could feel each of his organs humming in excitement against the inside of his skin, which was a layer of dulled nerves separating his insides from his sensitive outsides, because not everything was feeling the paralysis. No, some parts of him were feeling quite the opposite, and he shook his head again as he whined, because there was little more he could do.

“Four arms,” he said, finally noticing the large tears in Kevin’s shirt where clawed hands had torn through, allowing scaled arms to reach for him, short spines tearing the sides of the shirt to pieces as they pressed through. Cecil could only imagine what sort of damage the chair he was seated in would sustain if the increasing size of the spines were any indication of what the ones on his back must look like.

Kevin hummed his acknowledgement of Cecil’s observation, and Cecil could hear the sound reverberating through the gaping void inside the other man’s chest, feel the vibrations travel up through his throat, and before he knew what had come over him, Cecil found himself chasing their wake with his tongue, leaving a slick line up Kevin’s neck. Kevin’s shudder was only just strong enough for Cecil to perceive through the fog rolling over his mind.

“I don’t like them,” he murmured against Kevin’s jaw, growling softly as he felt the two hands on his hips slide lower and back, cupping his ass in a firm grip, the tips of claws biting through his slacks and into his skin, dragging along and tearing lines in the fabric, raking scratches into his flesh.

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that, friend,” Kevin replied, voice calm and uncaring, though his breath came short and quick. He was focused on his task, ripping holes in Cecil’s slacks, leaving the cloth in shreds. The air hit Cecil’s bare skin, and he shivered against Kevin. He didn’t remember the station ever being this cold, or this empty, or this dizzying. The holes in his pants converged, the opening large enough for his thick nub of a tail to sprout and hang limply against his ass. Kevin sucked his teeth in annoyance, holding it aside with one hand as the other probed at the flesh below it.

“Don’t like _you_ ,” Cecil hissed, trying to swat Kevin’s hand away with his tail, but it was trapped in his clawed grasp.

“I find that very hard to believe,” Kevin laughed, dark and low, and the hand that had been gripping Cecil’s throat so tightly release its grip, traveling lower to palm at Cecil’s groin. The front of his slacks were soaked with slick fluid, which felt more wonderful than Cecil cared to admit pressed against his tendrils, already so thick with ink. Whatever Kevin had going on in his pants was still bulging firmly against Cecil’s thighs, and it was becoming somewhat more obvious through the thick haze of his mind that there was more than just _one_ something contained behind that straining zipper.

“What about you?” Cecil asked, mouthing breathlessly at Kevin’s neck. The scales were soft and pliant under his dagger-like teeth, and rivulets of thick, sludge-like blood were dribbling down towards his collar. There was no doubt Kevin viewed being bled to be affectionate, not with the amount of groaning he was doing; quiet and low in his throat, but still there, vibrating against Cecil’s teeth.

“Of course I like you, Cecil,” Kevin murmured into Cecil’s ear, chasing the words with his tongue. Cecil stiffened and hissed at the contact, feeling his body flood with even more odd prickling sensations that neither aroused nor disgusted him, just added to the slurry of feelings enveloping his mind. Cecil honestly didn’t care whether or not Kevin liked him, and in fact would have greatly preferred it if he didn’t. However, his curiosity was a force to be reckoned with even when he wasn’t blind drunk on whiskey and doped up on neurotoxins, and he really just wanted to see what oddities Kevin was packing in his pants, because it obviously wasn’t human.

As though he could read Cecil’s mind, Kevin removed the hand that had been pressing against the bulge in Cecil’s ruined pants, deftly undoing his own fly and literally tearing the fabric out of the way. Cecil was glad the station building was seemingly empty, because they wouldn’t have any wearable clothes remaining when they finally walked out of there at the rate things were going.

The toxins pumping through Cecil’s veins were making his vision blur, but even so he managed to make out the general shapes protruding from Kevin’s groin. There were two of them, thick, textured, side by side, darker than his scales but lighter than his spines. Cecil must have whimpered at the sight without realizing it, because Kevin chuckled darkly, wrapping his hand around the pair and giving them a long pull, moaning deeply as he squeezed them together just so.

“Impressed?” he drawled, nosing at Cecil’s neck, raking his teeth along his dark skin, but Cecil only grunted noncommittally in response. Sure, they were different, and he did wonder what their bumpy appearance would feel like sliding against sensitive skin, but there was no need for Kevin to know all of that. He huffed indignantly as he tore Cecil’s slacks open, not even caring to undo the button or pull down the zipper first. Cecil noted that Kevin’s claws, in fact, seemed to _tear through_ the zipper with great ease, and immediately filed that discovery away. “Better than whatever that scientist of yours has, I’m sure.”

Cecil snarled in protest, sinking his teeth deep into Kevin’s throat, but of course that only made him moan louder. It was so difficult to find ways to actually _hurt_ him because pain only caused him pleasure and kindness seem to completely blow his mind. “Carlos is perfect,” he muttered against Kevin’s scaley skin, and left it at that. It was better not to think about Carlos at that moment, not while knowing what was about to happen, what couldn’t be stopped.

The comment seemed to antagonize Kevin, though it hadn’t been intended to do so, because he pulled Cecil’s tendrils roughly from the tattered shreds of his fly and threaded his fingers through the mass, coiling them around his clawed grip. The smoothness of his scales felt wonderful against the sensitive things, and Cecil moaned loudly against Kevin’s shoulder in spite of himself. Kevin chuckled, pleased by Cecil’s change of tone, and lead the writhing tendrils to his own twin cocks. The bumps and ridges were incredible, massaging Cecil so perfectly, and his tendrils tightened around the pair, wriggling against them in ecstasy. Cecil chuckled triumphantly as Kevin’s moans echoed his own. He didn’t like that the other man had such an effect on him, but didn’t mind so long as he could make Kevin just as vocal as he was.

“They’re very slick,” Kevin hissed, pressing one clawed finger against Cecil’s entrance as the forked end of his tongue flicked over his ear.

Cecil shuddered and whined, his body stiffening again, though just for a moment, and he flushed dark purple. It was embarrassing to admit to himself that he wanted to feel Kevin’s dicks inside him, that his hole quivered at the gentle touch in anticipation for being stretched farther and filled tighter than ever before. He cursed the toxins in his system, making his blood boil and his skin burn, desperate to be touched. Paralysis nothing; those toxins kept people from leaving for an entirely different reason.

Kevin’s hand wrapped around the squirming tendrils enveloping his own cocks and squeezed hard as he stroked the the entire group of them, and Cecil dug his claws into Kevin’s shoulders as he yowled. The pressure was just a little too strong, pushing the pleasure over into pain, but his nerves were at such odds with each other that he was having difficulty distinguishing the two. It diminished quickly anyway as Kevin released his grip on the mass and dug his claws into Cecil’s hips, hitching them forwards until his freshly slicked cocks were nudging against his ass, nestling between his cheeks, and Cecil couldn’t help but he let out a breathy moan as he rubbed back against them. Their texture, their heat, their thickness… it was everything he wanted at that moment, and everything he hoped Kevin would give him, and soon.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Kevin purred against Cecil’s neck, digging the claws from one hand into his jaw and tilting his head up to bite at his neck, leaving faint hints of purple bruises in his skin. Each jolt of pain was followed by a quick lap of Kevin’s tongue, and Cecil shivered, gasping for breath with each new shock of whatever chemicals the monster was dumping into his system. His tendrils were incredibly thick with ink despite having some forced out over Kevin’s dicks just a moment ago. They tried to reach for friction of some sort and find their release, but were too heavy with the stuff, clumsily writhing over themselves instead.

It was agony, and Cecil whined loudly as he reached for them, but claws were tearing through his wrist before he could even ghost his fingertips over the poor, squirming things. He recoiled, snarling angrily, but another firm grasp had him pinned in place again, ass pressed back against Kevin’s twitching cocks, face pressed against his bloodied neck, chests heaving for breath with only a thin layer of fabric separating them. They were a mess, Cecil knew, and he hated it, but he couldn’t stop wanting more.

“Very,” he growled, punctuating the word with a fierce bite to Kevin’s jaw, relishing the way it made the other man squeal with delight, perhaps a bit more than he should. He was tired of being teased, tired of sitting on the edge of something he didn’t want to do and something his body physically needed, and if he needed to play nice to speed things along, then so be it. “Do it already. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, _Cecil_ ,” Kevin breathed, gripping his ass cheeks tightly and spreading him wide open, rubbing his cocks against Cecil’s hole.

If Cecil had any presence of mind remaining, he might have noticed the caring tone of Kevin’s voice, the gentle whispers of “I’m going to start now” and “let me know if it’s okay”. He might have realized he was getting himself into so much more trouble than he ever would have wanted, having a dangerous man _actually_ care for him. But he had no presence of mind, and he had even less when the first of the two cocks nudged against his hole, pressing inwards. The tips were pointed just slightly, and tapered off quickly, but not even that could prepare Cecil’s body to accommodate so thick a cock. He collapsed heavily against Kevin, digging his claws into his chest, fighting to arrange his muscles quickly enough to make room as he was stretched open, but Kevin was merciless, thrusting it in to the hilt in one swift go. Tears stung Cecil’s eyes as he gasped for air, the only sound his throat could produce despite how wonderful it felt to be stretched so wide.

A dark chuckle pierced through the haze storming in Cecil’s mind. He felt soft, scaled hands caressing his cheek, and every bump and ridge on the cock buried in him as Kevin pulled it almost entirely out, letting only the tapered end rest just inside Cecil’s hole. The sudden loss of stretch was maddening, and he sobbed against Kevin’s throat, mouthing sloppily at his jaw.

“You stretch yourself so well. That’s wonderful, but relax,” Kevin cooed, nuzzling Cecil’s cheek as he wrapped his hand around both of his cocks, squeezing them closer together. “I still have to show you the best part, and relaxing is especially important for it.”

Cecil couldn’t relax though, because at the exact moment Kevin began to thrust both cocks into him, he licked along the underside of his jaw, causing Cecil’s body to stiffen immediately as another dose of toxins saturated his system. He screamed against Kevin’s chest, clawing deep gouges into his scales, unable to open his muscles as quickly or easily as he should have been, instead feeling himself be agonizingly forced open by two dicks that were already each thicker than anything he’d taken before, and he _liked it_. Oh gods, how he liked the way his whole body quaked from the effort of taking in both of them, trying to force the intrusion out while still inviting it deeper, wanting to feel his insides bursting at the seams as Kevin fucked him. The pain was dizzying, but the pleasure more so, and he begged for more, his voice rambling and thick with desire.

“So demanding, friend,” Kevin laughed, but Cecil could hear the strain in his voice as he continued to sink himself deeper into the heat of his body. “You should try to pace yourself.”

Cecil could see the wisdom in this. He was painfully full, bumps and ridges pressing tightly against every inch of his insides, the squeeze so tight that Kevin could barely keep himself inside of Cecil’s body as muscles strained to force him back out. His claws bit into Cecil’s flesh, drawing blood that dribbled down his ass and splattered against the floor. He was going to hurt tomorrow, worse than the hangovers he’d been suffering, though that was sure to be ten times as worse as well with all the extra chemicals flooding his system. He deserved it; deserved the pain and the regret that would surely follow. As much as he wanted this to begin already, he wanted it to be over with even more so he could slink back home in his tattered clothes and sleep off his shame in the tub.

One of the hands not gripping Cecil’s ass stroked his cheek, raking a single claw along his skin firmly enough to raise a long, red welt. Kevin tilted Cecil’s chin upwards, their noses touching, and darted his tongue over the other man’s lips. The effect wasn’t as violent as it had been, Cecil’s muscles tightening for just a second before he was able to relax them again, though he could certainly feel his blood boil just as much as it had every other time. His tendrils attempted to twitch and squirm, but they were too heavy with ink, writhing pitifully against Kevin’s stomach, leaving slick rivulets all over his scales.

“Are you ready, Cecil?” Kevin whispered against his lips, and Cecil nodded, whimpering softly. Ready to feel those textured cocks in motion, ready to feel the fire in his groin burn bright enough to blind him, ready to pour gallons of ink over the floor, ready to walk home in shame and drink to forget how ready he was.

Kevin gripped his ass tightly and began slowly, agonizingly lifting Cecil off of his twin cocks, each bump stretching his hole just a little further as they passed through. Cecil threw his head back and sobbed at how unbelievably wonderful it felt, even at such a slow pace, clawing long lines into Kevin’s chest as his nerves shot off sparks in his hazy mind. Kevin hardly seemed to care about the shredded scales, the blood trickling down to join the slick fluids Cecil’s tendrils were smearing over his stomach. He just bit Cecil’s lip and groaned, drawing blood and lapping it up greedily, and Cecil moaned loudly as his saliva filled the bite marks, setting his body on fire. The stretch his entrance was suffering was growing less severe, nearing the tapered heads of Kevin’s dicks. He whined, trying to press his hips downward, stuff himself full again, but Kevin held him tightly in place and chuckled darkly against his lips.

“Do it,” Cecil growed, grasping Kevin’s neck and digging his claws into his throat. “Do it, do it, _do it now, damn you_!”

“Only because you asked so sweetly,” Kevin purred, and immediately thrust Cecil down against his hips again, forcing his cocks even deeper inside him and hissing loudly at how tightly the other man’s body squeezed him.

“Shit, _shit_!” Cecil gasped, shaking his head violently as wisps of smoke billowed from his many eyes. “So good, it’s _so good_.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Kevin murmured, his bright orange eyes shining with joy before he lifted Cecil’s hips again and repeated the motion, not as deeply, not as hard, but Cecil wailed regardless as he felt the twin cocks straining against his insides. He did like it, though he didn’t want to. Not even his own tentacles had ever spread him open so far, and he was certain if he felt like dislodging his claws from Kevin’s neck and touched his stomach, that he would feel the ridged things nudging against the inside of his skin. He’d _have_ to. They were _so thick_.

Kevin rolled his hips, and Cecil’s threw his head back with a loud wail, unable to believe how deeply those things were buried in him. Kevin licked at his neck, setting fires under his skin, and shushed him. _Shushed him_. “You’re getting too loud,” he warned, his voice shaking from the effort of keeping it even. “Don’t forget we haven’t gotten Management out of the walls yet.”

“Finish me off if you want me to shut up,” Cecil snarled, tightening his grip on Kevin’s throat. He shouldn’t even be able to talk with claws embedded so deeply in his skin, but he just kept going, kept spouting off unimportant words in a voice that was too steady, too kind, too unattached from what his physical self should have been feeling.

“I wanted to take my time,” he cooed, nipping gently at Cecil’s neck.

“ _Now_.”

Kevin sighed. “If you insist….”

His pace quickened, barely, but still enough to make Cecil sob with pleasure, shivering against Kevin’s chest, but he needed more. The slurry of alcohol and whatever toxins Kevin produced in his saliva racing through his body had every inch of his skin on fire, incredibly sensitive to the touch, and he needed to be touched _more_. His tendrils ached, overfull with ink, just waiting to burst, but they couldn’t, not while sensations of pain and pleasure and discomfort assaulted him, keeping him from coming. They needed to be touched, and Kevin had a fourth hand that wasn’t in use, _so why wasn’t he using it_?

Cecil wrapped his legs around the back of Kevin’s chair and forced his hips downwards, sinking his body onto the other man’s cocks with much more force than Kevin had been using. He chuckled at the unexpected moan that tore from Kevin’s throat, the way he blushed at his own outburst, then pulled him close with the stranglehold he still held on Kevin’s throat.

“Harder,” he snarled, and Kevin eagerly nodded, bracing his feet against the floor and bucking his hips upwards, fucking into Cecil in short thrusts. Cecil howled in delight, arching his back under the assault on his already abused hole. It was perfect, pressure coiling so wonderfully low in his gut, his tendrils dripping thick streams of fluid over both their thighs. He reached between them with his free hand and grasped them firmly, fucking his fist as each thrust from Kevin set off painful bursts of pleasure deep inside him. He was so close, just a little more.

“ _Harder_ ,” he gasped, and Kevin whined frantically as he fell into a punishing pace, hands tight on Cecil’s ass, his own release swiftly approaching, he could feel it building. Cecil’s tight body wrapped so wonderfully around his cocks practically milked the pleasure right out of him, and Kevin threw his head back and sobbed, not even caring about how much it caused Cecil’s claws to tear into his throat. Nothing could distract him from how that greedy hole swallowed every ounce of cum he had to give it, as though Cecil had been waiting for Kevin to come along and treat him this well.

Cecil hardly cared about how he was being treated, he only cared that the thick ropes of semen splattering his insides felt hotter than even his own body’s increased temperature, and it pushed him over the edge. He keened, his fist growing tighter around his mass of tendrils as they finally burst, pouring so much ink over his hand, their legs, soaking into the chair and splashing loudly against the floor. He pumped them absolutely dry, the very last drop clinging stubbornly to his thumb, before releasing them disgustedly and slumping heavily against Kevin’s chest. He needed to get out of there but, gods, he had no strength to move. The room was spinning even worse than before, and he couldn’t remember when it had gotten so dark.

“Cecil?” a voice called from somewhere off in the distance, but he was too busy falling into the spiralling void of the room to answer.

The world was dark and filled with the metallic taste of blood for what seemed like ages, cold and dry, though he himself was soaked to the bone. His head swam or flew or perhaps spun; there was no way to tell. It did things he didn’t like, felt things he didn’t want. He kicked and screamed and demanded that it stop, until it eventually did, relinquishing control back to him. Slowly, so slowly, but still.

Cecil’s eyes fluttered open, all two of them, and he immediately wished they hadn’t. The room was bright, swimming in colors he didn’t even know had existed, and he rolled over, burying his face in something soft and warm and dark, so very dark. The thing clutched him tightly in an attempt to soothe, but something felt horribly wrong, and Cecil pulled away with a growl, ready to lash out if he needed to.

His eyes focused slightly, and objects came into view. A lamp, a door, a blanket. He was in his bedroom, but he didn’t remember going to bed. There was someone in the bed too, but he didn’t remember taking anyone to bed. And the colors… there was something wrong with the colors of the someone. A hand reached out and took his own, and he yanked it away.

“Y’ not Carlos,” he slurred, shocked at how coarse his voice sounded, like he’d been shotgunning gravel and gasoline cocktails the night before, which honestly would explain the throbbing ache in his head.

“That’s right,” the someone said, and everything snapped violently into place.

“ _Kevin_ ,” he snarled, feeling thick tentacles sprouting from his back and twitching menacingly over his shoulder. It was only his sheer rage at the sight of him that kept Cecil from worrying over the fact that he was apparently naked in bed with that monster. “Why are _you_ here?”

Kevin chuckled lightly, and Cecil was certain if his vision was clear, he would see a ghastly smile on that creature’s face. “Well I couldn’t leave you passed out at the radio station, could I?”

The radio station… the whiskey, the… _oh gods_.

“You…,” Cecil growled, grasping his neck roughly and squeezing. “You, and… and _me_ , and… what did you _do to me_?!”

“Woah there, friend,” Kevin said, so calm, so sunny, so horrible. “I didn’t do anything you didn’t ask me to.”

Cecil’s eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat. What _had_ he asked him to do? Almost on cue, his brain stopped spinning just enough for him to feel a stabbing pain deep in his body, and he knew.

He roared, tossing Kevin out of the bed and halfway across the room. “Get out!” he bellowed, too enraged to care how much agonizing pain it hammered into his skull. “Get out, get _out, GET OUT_!”

Kevin stared at him from where he had sprawled across the floor, his dark eyes full of… pain, or at least whatever close equivalent an unfeeling creature from Desert Bluffs could feel. His mouth hung open for a while, as though he were trying to think of something to say, some pretty words that would allow him to worm his way back into a bed Cecil and Carlos shared in a house that Cecil and Carlos rented _together_. Cecil hoped he would, just one word and he’d tear that monster’s throat out and burn his body along with the house, letting the ashes blow to the wind along with his unwanted memories.

To his credit, Kevin did the first decent thing he had likely done in his entire life: he firmly shut his mouth and stood, leaving without a word. Cecil didn’t relax until he heard the front door close, and a car rev to life and immediately drive away. He slumped back against the pillows, clutching his head in his hands, trying to will the pain away, but there was no getting rid of it. Everything hurt, so much pain laced with regret. He’d throw out every remaining bottle of booze, he’d soak in the tub for a week, he’d pile his tattered and bloodied clothes into a bonfire and buy a whole new wardrobe. Anything, _everything_ to help him forget, to help him to never repeat these mistakes again.

Tears trickled down his cheeks. How was he going to explain this to Carlos?

 


End file.
